


holiday from real

by laurenrose



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: M/M, future smut, present and future, runaway fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-03-24
Updated: 2013-03-26
Packaged: 2017-12-06 07:30:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,996
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/733029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/laurenrose/pseuds/laurenrose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>mickey and ian realize that the only way they can ever be happy is if they leave chicago</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

Mickey knew he was a liar. He knew that about himself. He'd known that since he was little, from the very first lie that rolled off his tongue, he knew that lying came easy to him, probably easier than anything else. He was good at lying, especially to himself. He lied to himself the most. Those lies to himself, they started when he was twelve years old. He tried to convince himself that he wasn't hard because of that stupid actor in some stupid movie that Mandy made him watch, but because of the actress in practically no clothes right beside him. He tried to make himself think of that same actress when he jerked off that night, but her male counterpart, with his broad shoulders and impossibly charming smile, was lingering there in his mind, the only thing that could make him cum that night. Even after he was able to come to terms with the fact that yeah, so fucking what, he was gay, he continued to lie to himself. He repeatedly told himself that the stupid fucking redhead was nothing more than a quick fuck, a nice escape, when he knew somewhere that that was totally not true. He constantly tried to pushed the kid away, giving him reason after reason to hate him, but Gallagher always came back. He lied to himself each time Ian smiled at him, told himself that no, those sure as hell weren't butterflies in his stomach and that there was no fucking way his heart rate sped up. He lied to himself when he said he felt better. 

He wasn't even sure if he was awake or dreaming when he reached the Gallagher house. He wasn't sure how he'd gotten there, didn't remember the walk. He wasn't even drunk. He had sobered up, knowing that what he was about to do would be tainted by alcohol, made meaningless. When he knocked, he half hoped that no one would be home because he was scared. He could admit that to himself. He was so terrified of the power that Ian Gallagher had over him. Ian Gallagher could fucking destroy him and he knew that now. 

It was Lip who opened the door, looking a little disoriented. "Mickey, what the fuck do you want?" He asked, a hint of annoyance in his voice. He looked like he had been sleeping. Shit, it was kind of early in the morning.

"Is Ian home?" Mickey asked meekly, no threat in his voice at all. He hated himself for how weak he sounded. He also realized that he had called Gallagher by his first name, something he rarely ever did. He was beyond caring now, needing just to see the redhead that had fucking ruined his life. 

"He's, uh, out of commission at the moment," Lip responded quietly, averting his eyes away from Mickey's, moving to shut the door in Mickey's face. The implications of what Lip had said let Mickey know that he knew about his and Ian's fucked up relationship, if it could even be called that. Mickey took Lip's cavalier answer, however, to mean that Firecrotch hadn't told him everything. He honestly wouldn't have cared if he had. Mickey deserved to get the shit beaten out of him by Ian's protective older brother. Mickey deserved so much more for what he had done than he knew he would ever get.

Mickey shoved his body in between the door, not allowing it to close. He had to do this now because he knew he'd never have this kind of courage again. He knew he'd never be able to utter the words that were there in his mind, eating him away, burning every inch of him. Despite feeling weak and stupid, Mickey was able to strengthen his voice and say, "God dammit Gallagher, just let me in. You don't want to fuck with me right now."

With those words, Lip loosened his grip on the door and allowed Mickey to slide through. Once inside, Mickey paused for a moment, remembering the only two times he'd ever been inside this house. The first time, he'd been searching for Frank, intent on killing the big-mouthed bastard. He would have never thought that, of their two fathers, Ian's had been the least of their worries. The other time had been much more recent. He remembered being bent over the counter, Ian's hand resting reassuringly on his shoulder, his blood everywhere, that fucking disgusting doctor repairing the bullet wound. He would give fucking anything to go back to that day. To feel his lips pressed against Gallagher's again. To be as close to happiness as he'd ever been.

He turned toward the stairs when he noticed Lip staring at him quizzically. Taking the steps in twos, he reached the top far sooner than he wished to. This was real now, too real. He could feel his heart beating in his chest wildly, his stomach churning. He knew Lip was behind him. He knew he should tell him to fuck off, that this wasn't any of his business, but he wasn't even sure if he could say any words at all. 

He looked around the cramped hallway. There were close thrown everywhere, haphazardly. It was a fucking mess, but it felt like a home. Felt like people lived here, not just stopped by whenever they were out of prison, like the Milkovich home. Hell, Mickey wasn't even sure if it could be considered a home.

All of the doors were open except one, which he presumed to be the room that Ian shared with Carl and Liam. Mickey fucking hated himself for knowing which exact Gallaghers were in a room with Ian. He knew that meant that he had been listening to every single fucking word that came out of the redheads delicious mouth. He couldn't help it.

Tentatively, Mickey stepped forward, stopping when he was right in front of the door. His hand hovered over the doorknob, knowing that this was his last chance to back out. His breathing was ragged, his nerves on edge. He felt as if he were about to have a panic attack. He was so scared of what would happen when he saw Ian's face, the pain he'd inflicted. He was even more scared that Ian would make him leave, tell him to leave and never come back. He knew that's what he deserved. He knew that the redhead would hate him. He just knew.

Glancing quickly behind his shoulder, he shot Lip a glare that was the equivalent to a "fuck off". He closed his fingers around the doorknob, his hand shaking. He knew it was fucking stupid, but he couldn't control it. Finally, he willed himself to push the door open. He hated the way he saw Ian laying on his bed, facing the wall, covers pulled up almost over his head.

"Not now, Lip," Ian said, sounding so broken that Mickey almost cried on the spot. Mickey clicked the door closed then, not wanting an audience for what was about to happen.

"Not Lip," Mickey whispered, he eyes to the floor. He couldn't look up. He heard the rustling of sheets and the squeak of the bed. Ian was facing him now, but he still couldn't look up. He was too much of a coward.

"Mick," Ian whispered, already feeling the tears pooling in his eyes. He didn't even care if Mickey saw him cry. He didn't really think it mattered anymore. "What the fuck are you doing here?"

Mickey knew he had to look at Ian then. He knew he had to say what he came there to say. He wasn't going to let himself chicken out. On his way there, he had planned out exactly what he wanted to say. Somehow, though, all he was able to choke out was, "You were fucking right." After that, he let himself break down. Sinking to the floor in front of Ian's bed, Mickey allowed himself to cry.

Mickey didn't know what he was expecting when he started crying, but whatever it was, it was not what happened. He didn't expect Ian to join him on the floor, to pull him against his chest, to wrap his arms around him tight. He sure as hell knows he didn't deserve this type of consolation. He didn't deserve someone as perfect as Ian Gallagher. But he knew there was no use in protesting the strong arms holding him, so he just let himself cry.

"Sorry," Mickey said lamely after a while, the word feeling foreign on his tongue from misuse. He wasn't really sure if he was apologizing for the crying or for all of the other shit he'd done to Ian. 

Ian only responded by tightening his grip on Mickey and resting his cheek in his hair. When Mickey felt as if he could talk without being interrupted by tears, he shifted so he could look at Ian while still keeping his grip on him. "Please don't hate me," Mickey begged, his voice scared. "I fucked up. I've fucked up so many times. I hit you. You should hate me. I almost want you to. It would make this so much more real. God dammit," Mickey says, feeling the tears pooling again. "I... I guess what I just want you to know, no matter what you decide to do, is I do love you. It's so scary to say because I've never said it before. Not even to Mandy. But now, I just need you to fucking know it."

Ian just stared at him for a few seconds before resting his forehead against Mickey's and sighing. "Leave with me, Mick," Ian demanded, his voice sounding stronger than either of them anticipated. When Mickey pulled back to properly look Ian in his eyes, he was met with nothing but sincerity. "Chicago has nothing to offer either of us," Ian continued, trying to gauge Mickey's reaction. "Let's go, me and you, Mick, get the hell out of here. We'll go wherever you want. I'm not asking you to be out or hold my hand in public or take me on dates, that's not even what I want. I just don't want to live in fear."

"What about your family? What about West Point?" Mickey asked, looking away from Ian so the redhead couldn't see how vulnerable he was at that moment. "I'm not going to be the reason you abandon the things that are most important to you."

"You and I both know it's unlikely that I was gonna get into West Point. It's merely a pipe dream. And my family? They'll... They'll understand. As fucking gay as it sounds, Mick, you're the most important thing to me. You're basically my family," Ian said, and Mickey knew that Ian wasn't fucking around. Knowing that, he allowed himself to smile. 

"Yeah, Gallagher, that was pretty fucking gay," Mickey said, humor able to enter his voice again.

Ian allowed himself to smile at that, gently nudging Mickey's shoulder. They both knew that meant Mickey would leave with him. Even if Gallagher hadn't known, Mickey knew from the moment he stepped into the room, he'd do whatever the fuck Ian told him to do.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> mickey and ian hop on a train and get the fuck out of chicago

They left on a Tuesday. It was three days after Mickey had finally gained the courage to confront Ian. Being the obnoxiously smart fuck that he was, Ian suggested leaving in the middle of a weekday when no one would notice that they were gone for a few hours. Mickey had suggested that they leave right away and had hated when Ian pointed out all of the reasons why that wouldn't work. Sometimes he actually hated him for how fucking smart he was.

That morning, Ian had faked sick, waiting until all of the younger Gallaghers had left for school, Fiona had left for work, and Jimmy had fucked off to wherever he was spending all of his time, taking Liam with him. Once they were all gone, Ian quickly hopped out of bed and grabbed the bag he had shoved under his bed last night. Inside, he'd packed a few pairs of jeans, most of his clean shirts, underwear, condoms, and as gay as it sounds, a picture of his family. He didn't need much. He had Mickey and that was enough.

After looking around his room for the last time in a long time, possibly ever, he took his time on the steps, realizing how shitty it felt to leave the only place he'd ever called home and sprint head first into uncertainty. As bad as things had always seemed, he'd always had his family to fall back on. He was really going to fucking miss them.

When he reached the kitchen, he reached into his back pocket and pulled out the note he'd tried so hard to convey his feelings into. Unlike Lip, Ian had never been good with words so he'd eventually settled for:

_I'm really sorry, I had to. I would explain but you guys wouldn't like it. I love you all so much more than you know._  
 _-Ian_

He knew it was shitty but he didn't know how else to tell them. Before he could contemplate changing his mind, Ian folded the note in half and put it in the middle of the kitchen table where he knew it would be found. Without so much as another glance, Ian headed for the door.

-

They'd decided to meet under the El. Mickey was smoking a cigarette when he saw Ian approaching. Though he'd never admit it out loud, he'd been absolutely terrified that Ian would back out, that he'd realize that Mickey wasn't worth this shit.

The relief that flooded through Mickey's veins when he saw Ian was short lived. The redhead looked rough, like he hadn't slept at all the night before. Even though he had his bag slung over his shoulder, Mickey couldn't help but entertain the idea that Ian had come there to break it off, to show that he had finally come to his senses and realized that Mickey was nothing but an anchor dragging him down.

When Ian was finally in front of him, Mickey blew the smoke out of his nostrils and offered the cigarette to him. "You okay, Firecrotch?" Mickey asked, real worry laced in his voice. He really didn't know what he'd do if Gallagher decided he didn't want him.

"Yeah," Ian replied, taking a long drag off the cigarette, still not looking at Mickey. They just stood there in a silence that wasn't filled with tension but was nowhere near being comfortable. After a while, Ian finally looked at Mickey, asking "You ready to do this shit?"

Truth be told, Mickey had never been more ready for anything in his life. Though running away with Gallagher was scary as hell and forcing him to admit things that had been repressed for two years, Mickey could not be more ready. Just the thought of being with Ian 24/7 made his heart race, made him want to repeat the words he'd said not even 72 hours ago.

"Let's go," Mickey whispered, bumping his shoulder into Ian's playfully, trying to get him to smile. When Ian bumped him back, it took everything Mickey had to not touch Gallagher again. Even though he had accepted the fact that he was fucking in love with the stupid redhead, he knew others wouldn't understand. He wouldn't risk a fight when they were so close to getting out.

-

They'd bought train tickets to New York with the money Mickey had left from when they robbed that fucking grandpa's house. The money they had now was a combination of both of their savings from working at the Kash & Grab and the money Mickey had stored under his floorboards. He knew he'd need it one day. He never thought that this would be why.

They made their way to their seats, Mickey walking in front of Ian down the aisle. As they walked, Mickey could feel Ian's hand resting lightly on the small of his back, keeping contact the whole way. Just that one touch gave Mickey goosebumps. He didn't realize how much he'd missed the way Ian's fingers felt on him until he had been deprived for so long.

When they reached their seats, Ian slid in beside the window and Mickey got as close to him as he possibly could, longing for the touch that he was desperate for. He didn't give a fuck how obvious they were being, this was a new start for them both. Mickey was willing to be more open with Ian, he was willing to do whatever Ian wanted if it meant getting to be with him. Mickey knew how fucking gay that was, he really did. He just didn't seem to care anymore.

Yearning for a more intimate contact, Mickey slid his hand up Ian's leg, stopping in the middle of his thigh and just letting his hand rest there. He knew Ian was looking at him questioningly, but Mickey refused to speak first. The ball was in Ian's court now. The smile on Mickey's face was growing and he had to bite his lip to try and conceal it. It was too late, though, because Ian had already seen it.

Catching on to Mickey's game, Ian stretched his legs out onto the seats across from them that were conveniently empty. He reclined lazily, allowing Mickey's hand to travel farther up his thigh. Mickey responded by tracing little patterns on his upper thigh with his fingers, so close to where they both wanted his hand to be.

Mickey heard the redhead's breathing hitch when his pinky skated over his zipper teasingly. He wasn't going to let Gallagher get off that easily, though. He just continued on with his fingers rubbing Ian's thigh, now not even bothering to bite back the smile that just wouldn't go away.

Mickey was determined to let this go on forever, or at least until Ian did something much more bold. He loved the control he had over Ian in that moment, knowing that he it was something he almost never had. That feeling, however, was harshly interrupted by two people approaching, talking loudly about some bullshit that Mickey knew was stupid even though he didn't know what it was.

Sighing, Mickey removed his hand from Ian's thigh, because even though he was willing to be more open, he wasn't ready to have people watch him practically jerk off his boyfriend. Boyfriend? That thought caused him to question if he in Ian were in a relationship or not. He didn't know if he wanted that classification or not. He'd never been monogamous, even if he hadn't fucked anyone since he and Ian had restarted whatever this was when he'd returned from juvie for the second time. He hadn't even fucked Angie.

Mickey had hoped that the obnoxiously loud duo had only been passing by, but when they sat down in the seats across from he and Ian, he almost lost it. The two girls continued their conversation, obviously not giving a fuck that they were ruining a private moment.

Ian must have noticed the look on Mickey's face because he knocked his knee against Mickey's, letting it linger long enough that Mickey could feel the warmth coming from him through two layers of jeans. Mickey turned to look at him, crossing one of his legs underneath him. Fuck, even the way he was sitting was gay.

"So," Mickey started, glancing at the teenage girls across from them, still totally immersed in their own conversation, "where we gonna go when we get to New York?" Mickey asked quietly.

"Don't know," Ian replied, just as quiet. "It's me and you, Mick. We can fucking survive through pretty much anything. We got this," Ian assured him with a smile, letting his fingers brush against the knee that was bent, closer to him. His smile grew wider when Mickey shivered at the simple touch.

"Yeah, Firecrotch, we got each other," Mickey said after a while, his words a promise that he'd be there for Ian no matter what. After he said that, Mickey faced forward again, still having that stupid smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. Ian rested his head against the window, putting space between him them. Mickey hated not being able to be physically close to him right then, but he knew that neither one of them were ready for that right then.

-

When Ian woke up, he noticed two things. First, the seats in front of them were empty, causing him to assume that the annoying-as-fuck girls from earlier had moved. Second, his left side was numb, caused by something heavy leaning against his side. He twisted his head without moving his body, seeing Mickey, arms hugging himself, asleep against him, chest rising and falling rhythmically. Even though he was ridiculously uncomfortable, this was the single greatest sight he had ever seen. He couldn't move.

"Mick," Ian whispered after a while, unable to stay in that position any longer. After nudging him with his elbow a few times, Mickey suddenly stirred, looking more than a little disoriented.

"Fuck, Gallagher, sorry," He said, rubbing his eyes and looking embarrassed. Ian just gaped, pretty sure that this was the first time he'd ever heard Mickey apologize for anything. He decided not to comment, though, knowing it would earn him a punch in his arm or something.

They sat in a comfortable silence for a while, neither of them feeling the need to break the good thing they had. It was Mickey who finally decided to speak, saying something that surprised Ian. "You're gonna hate me, kid," Mickey whispered so quietly that Ian wasn't even sure he'd said it. When Ian just looked at him, a scared look misting his eyes, Mickey continued. "It might not be now, it might not be tomorrow, hell it probably won't be for a while, but when you realize how much I've fucked up your life, you're going to resent me. If this isn't what you want, Gallagher, please leave now. Just don't get off the train when we get to New York, just go back to Chicago. Please don't let it get to the point where you hate me. Please," Mickey begs, and Ian thinks he sees tears lurking in his eyes.

"Hey," Ian says softly, tentatively reaching up to run his finger along Mickey's jaw. "Not a chance, Milkovich. Not a fucking chance," He promises Mickey, running his fingers down his neck, his shoulder, his arm, until he finally gets to his fingers, weaving them together. "Now let's go back to sleep, okay?" Ian asks, pulling Mickey close to him. Mickey rests his head on Ian's chest, loving the sound of his steady heartbeat so close to him.

-

When they finally get to New York, they're both cramped from sitting in those seats for all of those hours. They both stretch, and Mickey almost gets hard from just seeing Gallagher's t-shirt ride up on his stomach, exposing his toned as fuck stomach. It's really been too long.

They get off the train and everything is so busy and for a second, it feels like Chicago. Mickey hates it for a second, but then he realizes that everything is different. He's not sure if it's the excitement shown so blatantly in Ian's face or the lesbian couple he sees walking hand-in-hand that makes him do it. He's beyond needing a reason to close the gap between Ian and kiss him, _hard_ , on the mouth. At first Ian's taken aback by his forwardness, but soon his lips are moving against Mickey's, his hands on his neck, gripping as if he's afraid Mickey will run.

"God damn, Gallagher. Let's find a place with a bed," Mickey whispers, his forehead pressed against Ian's as he squeezes the redhead's hips teasingly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well here it is guys. hope you like it!  
> i listened to this huge 90s playlist while i wrote this so i guess i was kind of inspired the most by gin blossoms and tlc? i don't even know.  
> please comment!


End file.
